Treating You Like Euro Trash

| Amsterdam, The Netherlands | Working | May 10, 2017

(My friend and I are visiting Amsterdam on a layover to Israel. We stop in a cafe for lunch and at the end of our meal, decide to leave a tip for the waitress. We’re a little unfamiliar with the currency, but give it our best guess and stand to leave. As we near the door, the waitress shouts, approaches us, and shoves the tip we’d left back at us. Note that my friend and I are used to traveling in the Middle East, not in Europe, and are admittedly daft when it comes to Euros — and we are also terribly jetlagged and exhausted.)

Waitress: “Hey. This is wrong.”

My Friend: “I’m sorry. Did we leave too little?”

(The waitress points to the coins in her hand, indicating one coin in particular.)

Waitress: “This is 2c.”

Me: “Oh… I’m so sorry, I thought that was €2.”

Waitress: *irritably* “It’s not.”

Me: “I see that. I’m sorry; I can’t believe we missed that. We must be more exhausted than we thought!”

(The waitress sneers impatiently as I shuffle through my purse to find the correct coinage. Meanwhile, my friend attempts to lighten the situation.)

Friend: “We really are sorry; it was an honest mistake. I’m sure you get this stuff from foreigners all the time and it must get really annoying.”

(The waitress just glares.)

Friend: *laughing tiredly* “You know… We’re just dumb tourists…”

Waitress: *curtly* “Yes, you are.”

(I finally find the right coin and hand it to her, adding two extra euro to make up for the mistake. The waitress quickly snatches the correct tip, keeping the one we had originally left, and then pauses, glancing at me. She snorts.)

Waitress: “I could have guessed.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

(She gestures to the Star of David pendant hanging from my neck.)

Waitress: “You’re a Jew, no? Well, nice try.”

(She turned abruptly and returned to the back of the cafe, leaving us stunned and confused.)

They Won’t Stop For Muffin, Part 2

, | ON, Canada | Right | April 29, 2017

(I work in a well known coffee place in Canada. This takes place while I’m working as the ‘order taker’ on a headset in the drive-thru.)

Me: “Okay, would you like anything else today?”

Customer: “Yeah, can I get a Pumpkin Spice muffin?”

Me: “So sorry, hun. Our Pumpkin Spice season is over. Would you like me to list the muffins we do carry?”

Customer: “Sure!”

Me: “Blueberry, chocolate chip, cranberr—”

Customer: *interrupting* “Do you have raisin bran?”

Me: “No, sorry, But we have cranberry apple walnut bran, fruit explosion, coff—”

Customer: *interrupting again* “What about banana nut?”

Me: *trying not sound frustrated* “No… sorry. The last two muffins we have are coffee cake and red velvet.”

(There is a long pause:)

Customer: “What about lemon poppy seed. You guys have that?”

(My coworkers, who also wear headsets, are now laughing as I mime a strangling motion.)

Disorder From The Order

, | Austin, TX, USA | Working | April 23, 2017

(I’m in a cafe where I tend to banter with the cashiers there, so they at least know me. I’m at the counter ordering my food. She is high-school or college-aged, possibly a student at the local big-shot university.)

Me: “And I’d like a… Boy, are you giggly today!”

Cashier: *giggles*

Me: “I don’t know why you’re so giggly, but look at that smile! Hey, look at how giggly she is!”

Cashier: *giggles some more*

(At this point I’m actually kind of mystified as to what’s so funny, but she takes my order and hands me a number, and I walk away. I walk over to a bench to sit down while they make my order. I look down at my number card, and suddenly all becomes clear. It is the number 69.)

Me: *holding the card up* “I figured it out!”

Cashier: *studiously avoiding looking at me*

(One of her coworkers came around to give me the food and he started snickering, too. It’s been over a week now and she still won’t look at me, which I find utterly hilarious.)

Demoted To Phone Answerer

, | UK | Working | April 13, 2017

(I work in a little deli/cafe as a part time job in a very small village. It’s an extremely informal atmosphere and everyone is always joking with each other and our regular customers. The owner is also the chef (and an extremely good cook); unfortunately, he is also the only chef we have at the moment so he’s been working every day including weekends since January. We also have some problems with telemarketers. Despite being told explicitly, and sometimes angrily, that we’re really not interested and not to call again, they continue to do so up to about six times a day. The biggest problem with the calls is that we only have one phone line and they often call when we are very busy, like around lunch time. This means that it blocks incoming take away orders and distracts one of people working. On this particular day we’re just calming down from a rush but the front counter is still very busy but the kitchen is okay so when the phone rings the owner picks it up in the kitchen. Normally he just tells them to “F*** Off” and puts the phone down, but he seems to be in a bit of a silly mood.)

Owner: *talking on the phone* “Hello, this is [Deli]… Look you’ve been told before we’re really not interested! STOP. CALLING. US! The owner doesn’t work here so there is no one you can talk to… Me? I’m just the chef, mate; I have no control over who our energy supplier is… All right, then. Bye.”

(The front of house is now clear so I feel like a bit of banter.)

Me: “So, [Owner], you’ve demoted yourself? What did you do?”

Owner: “Oh, it’s been a steady series of f*** ups. My constant insubordination, slacking, and undermining my ability to manage my staff didn’t help either.”

Me: “Sounds awful. I’m surprised you put up with yourself for so long.”

Owner: “Yes and the final straw came when he did a poo on table two.”

(We exchange blank looks at each other through the hatch as I don’t quite know how to respond and I don’t think he knew he was going to say that.)

Owner: “I took it too far, didn’t I?”

One Compliment Complements Another

| Australia | Friendly | April 5, 2017

(I am overweight but have been losing weight; it’s gotten to the point that others are noticing. I meet up with a couple of friends for our Friday coffee. The last couple of weeks had been hard, I had a lot of pressure at work and our family had lost a loved one.)

Friend #1: “Wow, you look great!”

Me: “Oh, thanks.”

Friend #2: *an older male* “You look so relaxed’ *he knows how tense I’d been*

Me: “Thanks, the worst is behind me now. Now that that the funeral is over I can start settling down and there’s just one more week left before everything goes back to normal at work.”

(Both friends reassure me that I have done well. Afterwards I go to see to other friends who are having a conversation. I stand quietly by so they can still talk.)

Friend #3: “Wow, looking good, [My Name].”

Friend #4: *a younger male 20 years my junior* “Wow, [My Name], you do look great.” *he turns back to their conversation before turning back to me* “I’m not just saying that. I really mean it. Let’s put it this way, if you take a walk past a construction site you are going to be deafened by the wolf whistles.”

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